The Listener
by her-little-musings
Summary: A Child!Belle AU in which Belle wants the sequel to her most recently finished book. However, the book hasn't been made yet, so she calls upon the Dark One to get it for her.


**Note: Belle is about 8 here.**

It was late into the night when Belle finished her book. Pushing a strand of hair from her face, she heaved a frustrated sigh, about to blow out the waning candle. That couldn't be the end of the book, she thought angrily, flipping to the last page again. She was sure there was a sequel, authors these days liked to have more than one part, but she knew there was no second book in the castle's library.

Maybe she could coax her father into buying it for her the next time he traveled, but that wouldn't be for months. Never the one to be patient, Belle pondered. There were stories that her friends once told at a sleepover. Something about a dark sorcerer who granted wishes, but only for a price. What was his name again? Oh, yes. Rumpelstiltskin.

Supposedly, if you spoke his name three times into a mirror he would come. Bunching up her nightdress and climbing from bed, Belle placed herself in front her vanity, looking confidently into her reflection. The stories said he was terrifying, but he never backed out from a deal. Belle hardly was any threat—she just wanted her book! Surely the price couldn't be that great.

"Rumpelstiltskin," Belle whispered, anxiety creeping up but held her voice steady.

"Rumpelstiltskin," she tried again, this time hoping that the stories weren't true.

"Rumpelstiltskin!"

Only her shaking reflection stared back, and quiet relief flooded through her veins. He was only a myth, a bard's tale to scare children. She should know better, he was something from one of her books!

"You called, dearie?" A voice crept up from behind, causing Belle to squeak with surprise and jump as she whirled around.

A man—or at least that's what he appeared to be—sat at the base of her bed, legs crosed. Clothed in leather, she could barely make out his features in the dimming candlelight, but his ghastly green skin reflected off.

He stood from the bed in a languid fashion, looking down to inspect her. Barely at his waist, Belle sucked in a breath as she waited for him to say something else, anything else. She was still shaking, having not recovered from her initial fright, and an eerie giggle slipped from his lips.

"You don't know what you've done, do you?" He asked, circling her in a predatory fashion.

"You're Rumpelstiltskin," she said with as much courage as she could muster, and he humored her with the raise of an eyebrow.

"That I am," he replied, bending down a bit to look her in the eye. This time she could see his face—large pupils, dirt ridden teeth, and twisted hair. But he didn't scare her, at least not as much as before. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have done so already. Now he reminded her of one of the cats who hung out in the stable. Curious, but wary.

"Then you must know what I do," he continued, trailing a black fingernail down her cheek. Belle drew back, clutching her book to her chest with a surge of determination.

"I want you to get me the next book," she said, voice wavering and a genuine look of surprise flashed across Rumpelstiltskin's face. Standing back up, he tilted his head as she held the book out to him.

"That's it?" He mocked incredulously.

Now it was Belle's turn to be confused. "What do you mean? Isn't this what you do? You make deals."

"Well…" He began, wondering how to phrase his job to a child. "I only make deals that interest me," he said carefully, and Belle crossed her arms.

"I don't interest you?"

"Not really, dearie. What can you possibly do for me?" He sighed, sitting back down her bed. He seemed tired, Belle thought, wondering if magicians or sorcerers ever slept. They must, surely, even a man as strange as Rumpelstiltskin.

"Belle," she suddenly said, propping herself up on the edge of the bed so that she was next to him. "Do you call everyone dearie? That's not very nice. Papa always told me to call someone by their name when you're talking about them. It's more polite."

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. He was being lectured by a child on manners, something far gone, but he conceded.

"Belle," he began, earning a smile from her. "Why ask me for a book? Why not be like everyone else and wait for the merchants to come?"

"I don't _want _to wait," she whined, sliding closer. "And I don't know if there is a sequel! It just ends—" she picked up the book and flipped to the end to show him, "Right here."

Rumpelstiltskin lifted the book from her hands, inspecting it with little interest. Something about a man slaying a dragon, but then getting swallowed whole as his true love comes racing in.

"Some stories don't end kindly," he said softly, handing the book back, but Belle shook her head fervently.

"Not this one. It _has_ to have a happy ending. True love's kiss can break any curse. You see, the girl isn't the man's true love; it's the dragon's! He's under a curse only she can break! So she goes on this journey with her friend to break it…"

Rumpelstiltskin's lips quirked in amusement as Belle began to summarize the book, even standing on her bed to reenact some of the scenes. He didn't quite understand it, but that didn't matter to Belle as she grabbed fistfuls of her hair in frustration. He merely giggled along with her antics, and she flopped back down on her bed, head facing where he was still currently sitting.

"You're a good listener," she said quieter, calming down. "No one usually listens to me when I talk about my books. Except for my papa, he always likes to listen, but he doesn't always have time."

Her blind devotion to her father was heartwarming, and Rumpelstiltskin had to sate his curiosity. "What about your mother? Does she not like listening to you?"

A wistful smile grew on Belle's lips. "Mama died when I was born, but Papa said she was the prettiest woman in the land. She read too."

Rumpelstiltskin's heart suddenly lurched, thinking of his own boy. Every child needed at least one parent, and now Bae had neither. Bile rose up in his throat, and he swallowed. Belle began tugging at his shirtsleeve in worry.

"Are you okay?" She asked, sitting back up, eyes filled with concern. He nodded, taking the book in his hands, letting his magic seek out the next copy.

"I'll make you a deal," he said, magic engulfing the book. "I'll get you the next book if you let me have something of yours."

"What do you want?" Hands bunched in her nightgown, she began to worry that he would take something valuable, but he touched the top of her head tenderly.

"A strand of your hair," he mused, plucking it before she could even process the sentence.

"And in return, here is your book." A puff of smoke erupted in his lap, and a book was in its place. It looked like the other, save for the cover and Belle yelped with glee, grabbing it.

"Oh _thank you_," she breathed, throwing her arms around his neck before Rumpelstiltskin could protest. He patted her on the shoulder awkwardly, and she drew away, beaming.

"However, you must be careful not to show it to anyone," he instructed, running his hand down the spine. "That book will not be out for another three months. It would be…Unpleasant if anyone found out where you procured it from, dearie."

"_Belle_," she protested, but with a smile and he managed a toothy grin in response.

"Keep loving your papa," he said, rising to leave and she nodded heartily in response.

"Always," Belle answered, giving a small wave.

He left just as he came, silent and vanishing in a blink. Belle hid the book under her mattress, the smile never leaving her face as she dashed out the candle and snuggled into the blankets.

Rumpelstiltskin. The stories never mentioned what a great listener he is, Belle thought happily, and sleep overtook, with giggling imps echoing in her dreams.


End file.
